O autorze
środa, 02 września 2015
Broken Birds


A full-blown lie - I can deal with.
Its stupid rattling
like an empty trash can 
rolled by the morning wind
down the street on garbage day
Until somebody stops it with a kick.

It’s the half-truths that I get stuck with 
like with a broken bird
that the cat dragged in 
and it will neither live nor die.
I gently blow a soundless panic
in the sweaty feathers:
don’t die, don’t die, don’t die, don’t die!
Knowing the only thing to do 
would be 
to wring its neck
or give it back to the cat
to finish the job.
I hide it in the bushes
by the fence
pretending that it’s gonna be fine
away from the furry bastard.
Then
they come back
one after one 
in my dreams.
Fluttering 
against my eyelids.